


sky's the limit

by antikytheras



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Business Trip, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Post-Game, Romantic Comedy, i don't know why there's so much plot in this, my love letter to hoenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23104960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antikytheras/pseuds/antikytheras
Summary: ‘Y’know,’ Leon muses, a tad too serenely for Raihan’s tastes, ‘when I said we’d be “taking Hoenn by storm”, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.’Behind them, the aggravated Rayquaza lets out averyangry roar.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan
Comments: 78
Kudos: 291





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm supposed to be on hiatus to avoid burnout ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It all starts when Leon corners Raihan in one of Hammerlocke’s massive, sprawling libraries.

‘We’re going to Hoenn,’ he says with a grin.

Contrary to popular belief, Raihan is a busy man. Hammerlocke may not have many gym challengers, being the last pitstop in the challenge circuit and all, but running the region’s main energy plant in the aftermath of a certain eco-terrorist’s incident is more than enough to make his actual job feel like more of a side gig.

Before the whole _incident_ , he had left the day-to-day operations of the power plant to what he thought were Rose’s capable hands. And now that he’s been proven terribly wrong, these days there are too many meetings full of too much jargon and other technical terms that he should know but doesn’t.

He had let things slip out of his grasp, so it is only right for him to pick up the slack.

And that is precisely how he finds himself holed up in a library at one of the most ungodly hours of the morning. On a Monday night. When he has an early morning meeting at the energy plant the next day.

Raihan blinks up at Leon from where he’s seated at the floor, the lower shelves of the books on thermodynamics digging into his back. He’s having trouble focusing his eyes, even through the lens of his glasses. ‘What?’

‘We’re going to Hoenn,’ Leon repeats. Somehow, his grin looks like it’s getting impossibly brighter.

‘We?’

‘We,’ Leon affirms.

Raihan breathes in. Then after carefully taking note of the page he’s read and re-read and read again at least three times already, he closes the book and sets it atop the pile of dusty old books beside him.

‘I have questions,’ Raihan begins, and Leon holds up two tickets, like that answers absolutely anything he’d been meaning to ask, like _how did you find me_ , or _why are you awake_ , or even _what makes you think I want to go together with you_?

He pushes the last question out of his mind.

‘The flight’s in a week,’ Leon says instead.

‘I’m busy,’ Raihan explains carefully, eyeing the pile of books next to him. It’s almost as tall as he is when he’s sitting down.

For some reason, he can’t bring himself to look Leon in the eye.

That does nothing to lighten the heavy weight of Leon’s golden gaze. ‘I’ll get lost if I don’t have you with me.’

It’s a simple statement with too-many-implications. He ignores the leap in his heart.

‘Why don’t you get Kabu to go with you instead? He was born there, wasn’t he? I’m sure he’d be a much better tour guide and all.’

Leon forges on, undeterred. ‘He offered to let us stay at his old villa.’

Huh. Maybe Kabu’s busy too. They’ve all been busy, ever since—

Raihan happily lets his brain sputter out. That train of thought disappears.

‘How’d you know I’d be here?’ he asks instead, because it is four in the morning and he has no more self-control.

Under the dim yellow hum of the library’s simulated candlelight, Leon’s expression is unreadable. Or maybe Raihan would be able to read it if he weren’t on his forty-fourth hour awake, who knows.

‘You work too hard,’ says the man who’s devoted his entire life to being Champion, and then thrown himself into a new ambitious project the second he’d stepped down from that title.

Raihan can’t help the lazy grin that tugs at the corner of his lips. ‘Pot.’

Leon actually _glares_ at him. ‘Your paint’s chipping, kettle.’

Raihan waves off his concern. ‘I’m fine, no need to get your knickers in a twist. Anyway, I appreciate the thought and all, but that power plant’s not gonna run itself while I’m gone, y’know?’

‘You’ve trained Camilla and the others well enough to handle everything without you around.’

‘Yeah, but they’re just kids—’

‘So are we,’ Leon points out quietly, and Raihan laughs.

‘We’re the ones in our twenties—’

‘You know what I mean.’ The flames of the simulated candles burn coldly in Leon’s eyes. ‘We’re going.’

Raihan knows a lot of Leon’s voices. This is the voice that says there’s no arguing with him, that one way or another, he _will_ get his way, and trying to oppose him is an exercise in futility.

So, with a shrug, Raihan lets him win, like he always has and always will. ‘Suit yourself.’

There are dark spots fading in and out of his vision. Raihan watches them, amused, as his analyst drones on and on about efficiency and vacuums and convection currents. Everything the analyst says tallies with the impromptu research he’d carried out yesterday, so other than a few pointed questions for clarification, he can tune out and let the analyst affirm what he already knows.

‘…Thus, our findings conclude that it would be entirely viable to bolster Galar’s resources with alternative sources of renewable energy.’

‘Thank you,’ Raihan says with a polite, pleased smile. He’s feeling a little light and floaty, but he manages to get to his feet. ‘Keep up the good work. Same time next week?’

There are only three people in the meeting room, which already feels like three people too many for eight in the morning. For some reason, Aria keeps looking at him from across the table. Raihan wonders if he has something on his face.

The analyst hesitates. ‘Actually, our team would really appreciate being able to meet a little more consistently… You see, energy is such a broad field, and we’d like to make sure we’re on the same page—’

‘That sounds like a great idea, thank you for bringing it up.’ His schedule is fully packed. He has one precious hour on Friday mornings for breakfast with Piers, but with an internal wince, he gives that up. ‘How about this time on Fridays?’

The analyst relaxes. ‘That would be perfect, thank you.’

The dark spots are getting bigger.

‘No, thank you. Galar wouldn’t be running anywhere as well without you guys here to guide us.’

He’s not sure if the dark spot has consumed the left side of his vision, or if he just straight up can’t see out of his left eye.

‘You flatter us, but everyone knows the one who works hardest is—’

His right knee buckles. He manages to throw one arm out and catch himself before he falls. When his elbow slams against the conference table, the sound echoes around the silent room.

He hears Aria’s cry of concern, and he vaguely registers that the analyst is rushing forward. He waves them away. ‘I’m fine, I really am. Just… haven’t had breakfast.’ Or dinner, he thinks, but no one needs to know that.

The analyst sounds a little _too_ distraught for Raihan’s liking. ‘Oh, I’m so very sorry—’

‘No, no, it’s not your fault—’

He looks like he’s about to start wringing his hands. ‘Perhaps I could bring breakfast next time?’

Raihan pauses. ‘That sounds great, actually.’

After many more assurances and too-sincere apologies on both ends, the analyst takes his leave. The instant the door swings shut, Aria is turning to him with her hands balled into fists and an unhappy frown on her face.

‘Woah there,’ Raihan says, both hands held up placatingly.

That does nothing to appease her. ‘Were you in the library all night again?’

He hesitates. He doesn’t like lying to his trainers.

So it’s with a tone too-light that he admits, ‘Well, yeah—’

‘You! I can’t— _believe_ —’

He blinks. ‘What? What’s wrong?’

Her voice goes shrill. ‘What’s _wrong_? What do you mean, what’s _wrong_?’

Raihan winces. ‘Er— I mean, yeah, it’s not good to skip breakfast—’

‘That’s not the point!’ There are tears in Aria’s eyes, and _now_ Raihan starts to panic.

‘I—’

‘Why do you always do this? I— We— Sebastian, Camilla, and me— We’re all here to help you, but you don’t— you never— you won’t let anyone help you!’

The accusation stings more than he’d expected. ‘You guys are still kids,’ he tries to explain, but Aria isn’t having any of it.

‘We’re only five years younger than you are.’

In the back of his mind, he sees Leon under the warm candlelight, looking at him with that awful gaze as he quietly reminds him of the childhood they had never gotten the chance to live.

So it is in a tone too-careful that he says, ‘I don’t want to put too much on your plates.’

A tear drips down Aria’s cheek, but her conviction does not waver when she points out, ‘You’re the one who taught us about the importance of working in a team, with our partners, in all those Double Battles— you told us to trust our Pokémon to adapt to the situation, so why won’t you trust us too?’

A part of him can’t help but feel impressed that she’s throwing his own words back into his face. The rest of him feels terrible.

‘This isn’t what you guys signed up for—’

‘We became Gym Trainers because we want to learn about battling, yes, but that doesn’t mean we don’t want to help you—’

She breaks off, shoulders wracked with sobs, and the only solace he can offer is to reach out and envelop her in a hug.

For a long moment, they stand in silence, Raihan holding her while she cries out her worry and frustration.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says simply, but he cannot bring himself to promise anything more.

Piers manages to convey his utter disappointment in nothing but a Look. ‘Why am I not surprised?’

Raihan shrugs. ‘You disagree with almost all of my life choices, I’d be surprised if you _were_ surprised.’

The recently-retired ex-gym leader picks up one of the numerous reports littering Raihan’s office desk and flips through it. He makes it a grand total of two pages before setting it down with a face of disgust. ‘Never pegged you as the type to prefer reading someone’s master thesis over having a meal with your oldest friend.’

They are gathered in Raihan’s office which, until recently, had been woefully underused. Now that he visits the power plant a lot more frequently, some of the shine has started to go from the furniture and the floors.

‘People change,’ Raihan says flippantly.

Piers says nothing more about their cancelled breakfast plans. Instead, he narrows his eyes and says, ‘Spit it out. Why’d you call me over?’

After Leon had cornered him at the library last night (or morning, depending on how you look at it), he had fired off a vague text to Piers, who had made only increasingly absurd guesses as to the source of his predicament before finally promising to come down to his office in the power plant during his lunch break to fully enjoy his misery.

Raihan chews his bottom lip and finally admits, ‘Leon’s invited me to Hoenn next week.’

‘Congratulations,’ Piers says, unimpressed. ‘I’m sure the wedding will be splendid.’

‘Not like that,’ Raihan snaps.

‘What, just two bros taking a vacation halfway across the world, sleeping two feet apart in the same bed ‘cos they’re not gay?’

Raihan tries very hard not to think about it like that. ‘We’re staying at Kabu’s villa, there’s no way there’s only one bed.’

‘Kabu is married to his work,’ Piers points out. ‘I’d be surprised if he _had_ more than one bed. And, by the way, if you don’t do something about your newfound work habits, you’re going to end up just like him.’

‘Me? End up like that old geezer? Never,’ Raihan says loftily. ‘I’m too popular with the ladies.’

‘Nice try changing the subject,’ Piers remarks, dry as a desert, ‘but your face is bright pink.’

‘Shut _up_ ,’ Raihan hisses, burying his traitorous face in his hands. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘I don’t know, confess your single-target homosexuality—’

‘ _Absolutely not_.’

‘—or pine the whole time you’re there, it’s your choice. Speaking of which, how long is the trip?’

Raihan freezes. ‘I don’t know,’ he says slowly, looking up. ‘Didn’t think to ask.’

There is unholy satisfaction in Piers’s smile. ‘I hope you suffer.’

Before Raihan can retaliate, a knock sounds at Raihan’s door.

He doesn’t have any meetings scheduled for right now, but it wouldn’t be the first time something’s come up. He straightens his posture and raises his voice. ‘Come in.’

When he sees his visitor, Raihan’s eyes widen in horror.

A head of distinctly purple hair pokes in. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt— oh, it’s you.’

‘Hello,’ Piers says, completely unruffled. Then, in the same voice he’d use to talk about the weather, he comments, ‘Did you know he passed out during his morning meeting today?’

Raihan is going to _kill_ his best friend.

Leon lets the rest of himself in with a frown marring his pretty face. ‘No, no one told me.’ He turns to look at Raihan, examining him altogether _too_ closely for his liking. ‘Are you alright? You’re a little flushed.’

Fuck.

Raihan stares at the bag of take-out in Leon’s hands, if only to avoid having to meet his rival’s penetrating gaze. ‘No— I mean _yes_ , yes, I’m fine, don’t worry about it. What’s that?’

Leon looks down. ‘Oh, this? It’s for you.’

Raihan sneaks a quick glance at Piers, but the man’s expression is as bored as ever. He breathes out a sigh of relief—

—only to turn back to find Leon watching their silent interaction with a contemplative look in his eyes. He’s staring at Piers with something dark and displeased in the downward slant to his lips, but it must be a trick of the light.

Raihan swallows and tries to remember the conversation he’s supposed to be having. ‘Huh. What’s in it?’

Thankfully, that seems to be enough to snap Leon out of his reverie. He looks back at Raihan with a blink, then a smile. ‘I happened to be in the area, so I brought you some lunch.’

Almost as if on cue, Raihan’s stomach lets out a long growl.

He wonders if he’d accidentally stepped on a Ninetales’s tail in a past life to deserve this humiliation.

‘He also hasn’t eaten since noon yesterday,’ Piers adds oh-so-helpfully.

Never mind, Raihan is going to _wring that asshole’s neck_ —

Leon interrupts his murderous ideation with a frown. ‘You haven’t eaten?’

‘Uh— yeah, had a lot for lunch,’ he lies.

Piers flicks his gaze over, one eyebrow raised. Raihan bites down the urge to bicker back at him, since Leon is, you know, _right there_ —

Out of the corner of his eye, it almost looks like Leon is downright _scowling_ at Piers, but when Raihan turns ever-so-slightly to sneak a better look, Leon is all smiles with his head tilted charmingly.

He rubs his eyes. Must be the sleep deprivation playing tricks on him again.

Piers is, to his credit, entirely nonchalant. ‘Well, I’ve got to get back to Spikemuth. See ya.’

Raihan blinks. ‘But you just got here.’

‘I’m done enjoying your misery,’ Piers explains, staring into the distance with a faint, sickly-sweet smile on his face. ‘Also, Marnie wants to have lunch together.’

‘Why do you only smile when you talk about your sister?’ Raihan demands.

Piers looks at him and snorts. ‘Because she’s cute, and you’re not. Anyway, I have to go.’ He nods at Leon. ‘See ya.’

Leon waves, cheery as ever, and _now_ Raihan is convinced that the strange expressions he’d seen earlier had been nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him. ‘Bye.’

Once Piers slouches out the door, it’s just Leon and Raihan, alone in Raihan’s office.

Leon sets the take-out down onto Raihan’s desk. ‘You mind if I…?’

Raihan shakes his brain awake. ‘No, of course not, sit wherever.’ He gestures vaguely around his desk.

He may be using his office a lot more now, but it is a little more barren than strictly necessary, so Leon can only pull up a rickety wooden chair and scoot over to Raihan’s side.

‘I brought fish and chips from that restaurant in Hulbury,’ Leon says brightly, leaning in just a little closer than strictly necessary to reach for the food and utensils inside the bag of take-out.

Raihan tries not to move. ‘Oh? The one that—’

 _The one that Rose used to visit all the time_ , he almost says, but the words die on his lips.

For some reason, Leon seems to take that as an invitation to lean in even closer, scrutinising him with the same look he gives him at the start of all of their battles.

A shiver dances up Raihan’s spine, but Leon is, thankfully, too busy staring at his face to notice.

‘You’re not fine, are you?’ he asks quietly.

Raihan rolls his eyes and pushes his rival’s face away. ‘Yeah, yeah, I got a little dizzy, but who doesn’t get sleepy during morning meetings—’

‘That’s not what I mean.’

Raihan stills.

They sit in silence. It stretches several awkward moments too long.

Leon is the one to break it, of course.

‘Well,’ he says, reaching to open his box of fish and chips, ‘I guess it’s a good thing you’re coming with me on my business trip.’

‘Wait—’ Raihan is cut off by Leon holding out a forkful of fish, which he bites down on almost unthinkingly. Once he’s done chewing, he swallows and continues, ‘What do you mean, business trip?’

‘There’s a group of facilities called the Battle Frontier in Hoenn,’ Leon explains, holding out another forkful of fish. ‘The owner, Scott, invited me to take a look. He said we could try out the battle facilities, and I figured you’d enjoy it as much as I would.’

Raihan doesn’t know whether to feel grateful or disappointed at this new information. ‘So it’s just business?’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Leon says lightly, pausing to chew on a mouthful of fries. ‘It would be a shame to go all the way there just for work, so I got Sebastian to clear both our schedules for the next two weeks.’

Raihan chokes, and Leon slaps him on the back obligingly. There’s a lot to process in that statement alone, like the apparent development of Leon’s new friendship with _Sebastian_ , but he opts to start voicing his indignation with, ‘Two _weeks_?’

‘There are seven facilities,’ Leon explains, like two weeks is an entirely reasonable amount of time to be spending on a so-called business trip with your life-long rival. ‘And there are some other towns and places I want to visit, too.’

‘I can’t leave the power plant for _two weeks_ —’

Leon’s gaze is too-knowing when he says, ‘Aria certainly doesn’t seem to think so.’

Raihan bites his lip to keep from cursing. ‘I can’t make them—’

‘They were very happy to volunteer their help,’ Leon points out. ‘Besides, it’s just two weeks. I’m sure you’ll be much more productive after a short vacation.’

While it is true that Raihan’s been having a hard time thinking straight lately, it still doesn’t feel right for him to abandon his duties for a jolly little stint down to Hoenn. But Leon is giving him that little frown of displeasure again, which means that he’s getting into one of those moods where the only thing Raihan will get out of the resulting shouting match is a blow to his dignity.

So he sighs and accepts the final bite of fish he is offered. ‘Fine.’

Immediately, Leon is all smiles. ‘Good. Now take a nap. I’ll take care of things for the rest of today.’

Raihan snorts, but he’s already starting to rest his elbows on his desk. ‘You? Don’t you have work to do?’

‘I _delegate_ ,’ Leon says mildly. ‘And I’ll just have to supervise your Gym Trainers, that’s all. They’re very capable individuals, you know. I’m still not sure how Sebastian managed to sweet talk my secretary into cancelling two weeks’ worth of appointments.’

‘Course they’re good,’ Raihan scoffs, but his heart swells with pride. ‘They’re my kids.’

Leon only smiles and says nothing.

Once he leaves the room, Raihan lets out a yawn and rests his head on his arms. He picks up his phone and starts scrolling through social media, but in a matter of moments his eyes get heavy and he can feel himself starting to drift off.

Before he passes out, he remembers to send a message to Piers.

_it’s just a two week long business trip_

The reply comes almost immediately.

 _what kind of platonic business trip is two WEEKS long_

Raihan is almost glad to be too sleepy to reply. He closes his eyes, coming close to the edge of a nice, bright dream—

His phone buzzes. He opens one eye, looks at the message—

_also if you don’t let him fuck u i think he’s going to accidentally kill me one of these days_

—then firmly resolves to leave Piers on read.


	2. Chapter 2

On the morning of their flight, Leon intercepts Raihan at one of Hammerlocke’s libraries again.

‘ _How_ do you always know where I am?’ Raihan demands, doing his best to glare at his rival from behind the alarmingly tall stack of books in his arms. His back has been hurting recently, so today he had opted to bring the library’s entire collection of books on energy management policy to the reading area instead of sitting on the ground like a child in a book shop.

Leon stares at him and freezes, like it’s a question that has only just occurred to him. ‘I don’t know,’ he says slowly. ‘It’s a bit like how I sometimes guess what move you’re about to make before you even make it.’

Raihan hopes that he’s talking about their battles. ‘Well, whatever. You wanna help me move these books?’

Leon obligingly leans forward and takes the bottom half of the stack into his own arms. His hands are warm and surprisingly soft when they brush against Raihan’s forearms.

He tries not to think about his rival’s hands too much, but when they drag against his skin as he wriggles out from under the heavy weight of the books, there’s only so much ignoring he can do.

Leon, for his part, seems entirely unaffected. ‘Careful,’ he murmurs. He’s leaning in to support the tower of books, keeping a close eye on it as it sways.

Raihan can smell the notes of his cologne, but it fades away once they break apart. ‘I got it.’

He reaches to grab the books towering above Leon’s head, grateful for his extra height, and hears a faint grunt of relief once he pulls them away.

‘You lead,’ Leon orders.

Raihan can’t help the grin that crawls onto his face. ‘Where would you be without me?’

Leon peeks out from behind the half-as-imposing stack of books to roll his eyes, but there is a fond smile on his face. ‘Where indeed.’

Once they are done putting the books back (shelved properly, of course, because Raihan has some sense of social responsibility) Raihan dusts his hands off and stretches with a yawn.

‘How long have you been awake?’

Raihan doesn’t stop to think when he replies, ‘I took a four-hour nap yesterday, so maybe eight hours? Why?’

Leon scowls. ‘That’s not enough sleep.’

‘You’re awake too,’ Raihan argues, but that only deepens Leon’s scowl.

‘ _I_ just woke up,’ he says testily. ‘We’re flying today.’

Raihan has spent every waking hour of the last week staring at today’s date, circled in red on the calendar on his desk. So it’s with one eyebrow raised that he says, ‘Yeah, and?’

Leon frowns. ‘You’re going to fall asleep and miss our flight.’

‘No I won’t.’

‘I’ll follow you around and pour cold water down your back if you pass out,’ Leon threatens.

Raihan snorts. Leon is a busy man, there’s no way he has that kind of free time. ‘Sure you will.’

He does.

Leon leans in way too close when he squints at Raihan’s computer screen. ‘What kind of name is “Wattson”?’

Raihan puts one hand on his rival’s cheek and shoves his face away so he can continue typing out his email. ‘He’s a Gym Leader in Hoenn. Runs a power plant and everything.’

He can _feel_ Leon’s grin against the palm of his hand. ‘And you think I don’t know how to enjoy a vacation?’

‘Shut up,’ Raihan replies absentmindedly, withdrawing his hand to type out that yes, he would love to visit if it’s not too much trouble, would next Monday be okay—

‘We’re busy on Monday,’ Leon pipes up.

Raihan is starting to hate the sound of that word. ‘ _We_?’

‘We,’ Leon affirms, for what might be the fifth time this week.

‘It’s not like I have to visit _every_ battle facility—’

‘We’re busy,’ Leon repeats.

Raihan eyes him suspiciously, but Leon only smiles threateningly.

So he sighs and changes the date to Tuesday, relieved when Leon does not so much as blink in protest.

The second he fires off the email, Leon grabs hold of Raihan’s computer mouse. ‘Enough emails, we’ve got to go.’

Raihan snatches the offending mouse back. ‘I was _about_ to shut it down.’ Too many people have been trying to mother him lately, he thinks miserably.

Leon watches him like a hawk while he closes all the emails he’s been replying to for the better part of the last two hours. The second he clicks the button to shut down his computer, Leon practically picks him up and shoves him out the door.

They crash into someone, of course.

Raihan immediately apologises once he feels himself barrel into a body. ‘Ah, I’m sorry—’

Sebastian looks up at the both of them from where he’s lying arms akimbo on the floor, and suddenly the scowl on his face fades away. ‘Oh, Raihan! Leon!’

Leon is quick to kneel down and offer a hand up. ‘You alright?’

‘Is something wrong?’ Raihan asks, because Sebastian only comes to look for him if there are unannounced important visitors in the lobby, and at this point Raihan will happily take any stuffy self-important guests if it means he gets to avoid getting on that plane.

Sebastian takes Leon’s hand gratefully, looking a little awed. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, everything’s fine. I was just here to make sure that Raihan doesn’t miss his flight, that’s all.’

Dammit.

Leon laughs. ‘I tried to kidnap him this morning, but he insisted on coming to finish up some work.’

Sebastian throws him a dirty look, and Raihan is horrified to realise his Gym Trainer is starting to look a bit like _Piers_. ‘Yeah, sounds like our Raihan these days.’

‘I’ll make sure he has a proper rest,’ Leon promises, pulling Sebastian up. Raihan watches the muscles in his forearm shift—

Nope, nope, nope, he is _not_ looking—

Thankfully, Sebastian seems to be saying something while scratching the back of his head, and Raihan’s eyes cling to that motion if only to burn another sight into his retinas. ‘I’m really sorry to have sprung this whole thing on you—’

Leon pats Sebastian on the back, and Raihan’s Gym Trainer stands a little straighter, like he’s pleased to be getting affirmation from someone other than the Gym Leader who’s been guiding him from the very start.

‘No, it was a fantastic idea, I’m very grateful. It’s been good having someone keep me in the loop.’

‘Wait,’ Raihan interrupts, narrowing his eyes, ‘he’s been doing _what_?’

Sebastian and Leon exchange a glance.

‘Well, would you look at the time—’

‘Shame, wish I could stay a little longer to chat but I’ve got a meeting with the climate consultants—’

‘You are _both_ awful liars,’ Raihan hisses.

Leon gives Sebastian a sly wink. ‘I’ll hold him. Start running.’

Sebastian _salutes_. ‘Aye aye, cap’n.’

‘This is mutiny,’ Raihan grumbles.

He doesn’t expect Leon to actually wrap his arms around his waist and yank him backwards so that his back is flush against Leon’s broad chest. He can feel Leon’s warmth surrounding him, Leon’s finger absentmindedly tracing circles into the skin over his ribcage—

Sebastian finds none of this questionable, apparently. ‘Have a good trip!’ he yells, and then sprints down the empty hallway at full speed.

Raihan stares after him, jaw hanging wordlessly.

‘You’re right,’ Leon murmurs, stifling his laughter into Raihan’s shoulder. ‘They _are_ good kids.’

Raihan has to admit that he’s been sorely outplayed when Aria shows up at the entrance to the power plant dragging both his and Leon’s suitcases behind her.

‘Thanks,’ Leon says with a grin.

She giggles and tosses him a very familiar pair of keys. ‘No, thank _you_.’

He should have known better than to entrust Leon with a set of keys to his apartment. His rival has never had the occasion to actually use them, since he doesn’t show up unannounced, so Raihan had completely forgotten about the spare set until now.

‘Try not to burn this place to the ground,’ Leon teases.

Aria laughs, rifling through the stacks of papers in her hands. Raihan recognises some of them as notes from meetings this week. ‘Camilla would have my head before anything could happen, don’t worry.’

Raihan massages his temples and tries not to imagine the energy plant going up in flames. ‘Are you sure I should be going?’

‘Everything will be fine.’ Aria is glaring at him. Aria never glares at him. It’s always Camilla or Sebastian giving him attitude, not sweet, sweet Aria, but Leon must have corrupted her too, the poor dear. ‘I’ve been to every meeting you have, I’m pretty sure I know this place better than _you_ do. You’re worrying too much.’

‘Yeah, well, the last time I let things get out of hand I—’

_Almost caused the end of the world_ , he thinks, but he manages to bite his tongue before that slips out.

He doesn’t like the thoughtful look that Leon is giving him, so he turns back to Aria instead. ‘Never mind. I’m sure you guys will do great, but if anything comes up, just call me, okay?’

Aria rolls her eyes, and now Raihan is convinced that Piers must be in on this collusion somehow. ‘Yes, Dad. Now hurry up and get to the station, you’ll be late for the flight.’

They make it to Hammerlocke Station (Raihan leading the way, of course) with only curious stares and minimal harassment from their respective fans. He doesn’t need to look at his phone to know that the internet’s already abuzz with speculation about where they’re going and what they’re doing.

Once they make it to the platform, it only takes Leon gently chiding one over-enthusiastic fan to send the message to everyone that the both of them are off-duty and would like to enjoy their private time. Raihan is grateful to his fans for many things, but most of all, he appreciates their respect for the boundaries of his personal life.

Leon ties up his hair into a ponytail and sets a nondescript black cap on his head. ‘There, now they should know that we’re not looking to be disturbed.’

Raihan stares. ‘How many caps did you bring?’

‘Only two in my carry-on, but there’s another eight in my suitcase,’ Leon says, like ten snapbacks is an entirely reasonable number of hats to be bringing on a business trip. ‘Hoenn has a humid subtropical climate, you know. I hope you brought sunscreen.

He did not. ‘Is it that bad?’

Amusement glitters in Leon’s golden eyes. ‘Compared to over there, we don’t get much sun, so yes, you might start peeling like a lobster.’

His brain, ever so helpful, offers up the thought of Leon rubbing sunscreen onto his naked back at some bright, sunny beach, and he immediately focuses on the horrific mental image of his imaginary sunburns peeling instead.

He winces. ‘Don’t suppose you’d let me use yours?’

The train rattles into the platform, which saves Raihan from having to hear Leon’s reply. Not many people are headed to the airport on a Friday afternoon, except for some tourists and a couple of young teenagers, so the carriage is relatively empty.

Raihan watches Leon’s reflection in the window. He has his arms crossed on the ledge, his upper body turned so that he can look out of the window behind him. The fields of magnolia are shining amethysts in the pools of his wide-eyed, captivated gaze. His lips are slightly parted in wonder and awe.

Under the rare, clear-blue skies of Galar, the sunlight streams in through the glass and bathes the fallen Champion in golden light, blanketing him in a heavenly blessing even in the aftermath of his loss. His brown skin glitters, only for a second—

And then the train hurtles through a tunnel, and the sun can no longer reach him.

Even so, Raihan cannot bring himself to look away.

Somehow, Raihan sets off the metal detector at the security checkpoint.

‘I’m very sorry sir,’ the security officer says in a very-bored and not-very-sorry voice, ‘could you step out of line?’

He catches sight of Leon, who’d already made his way through security, turning back with a frown, so he shoots him a quick peace sign and strolls over to the spot where the security officer is waiting.

‘Must have left a coin in my pocket or something,’ Raihan mumbles apologetically, fishing for it.

The officer pulls out that metal detector paddle thing and waves it around vaguely. ‘Could you please stand with your arms out and legs spread wide?’

‘Yeah, of course.’ He lines up his feet with the markings on the ground and holds out his arms, feeling rather foolish. ‘Go ahead.’

The metal detector beeps when it passes over Raihan’s left pocket, and now he remembers the coin he’d slipped in there after buying a drink at a vending machine.

‘I’m going to have to pat you down, sir.’ The officer doesn’t wait for a reply before he starts skimming a gloved hand over Raihan’s arms, then sides, then legs. For some reason, the impersonal nature of the entire affair only serves to make everything feel more awkward, but he does his best to stand still and be grateful that no one is allowed to take photos in the security areas. He would rather die than let Piers have video evidence of this.

Leon is scowling in the distance, and Raihan isn’t too sure why. There’s still plenty of time before boarding, so it’s not like this is going to make them late or anything.

‘Right,’ the officer says, already walking away. ‘Off you go.’

‘Thanks,’ Raihan mumbles after him. He goes to pick up his carry-on baggage, then patiently waits in line for passport control.

The lady at the counter doesn’t even blink when he hands over his passport. He’s not sure if he’s glad that no one seems to care who he is, or if he already misses the attention. He doesn’t even want to think about what it’ll be like in Hoenn. On one hand, it’ll be nice to be able to walk around like a normal human being, but on the other, he’s spent more than half of his life working hard to stay adored. It feels downright bizarre when he gets through to the duty-free shopping area without so much as breathing a word.

The second he gets through, Leon grabs his arm and tugs him in the general direction of a confectionary store. ‘We should get gifts for everyone.’

Raihan doesn’t comment on how his grip is a touch too-tight. ‘Yeah, sounds like a good idea.’

They leave the store with bags of Alcremie-shaped sponge cream cakes the size of their palms and Appletun-branded biscuits with apple jam in the centre.

Leon bites the tail off the Gigantamax Gengar-inspired dark chocolate cream puff in his hands. ‘I’m going to miss the food,’ he moans.

There is a spot of cream on the tip of Leon’s nose. Raihan doesn’t know what possesses him to scoop it up with the tip of his finger and pop it into his mouth.

It is very good cream. Leon stands still, staring down at his Gigantamax Gengar’s newly-constructed asshole with comically wide eyes.

Raihan draws a deep breath. If Leon says anything, he will blame it on the month of sleep deprivation.

But Leon stays silent, and they do not discuss it further.

Everyone is surprised when they board with the rest of economy class, but no one, not even their very-attentive air stewardess, makes any fuss about who they are.

Raihan takes the window seat and quickly snaps a photo of the airplane’s wing through his tiny window. He throws on some filters and adjusts the brightness ever-so-slightly, then writes a caption containing only three plane emojis and posts it to his social media before the voice over the intercom tells them all to set their devices to airplane mode.

Unfortunately, that is more than enough time for him to see that Piers has commented a single smirking emoji, and that their fans have already started to go wild theorising what it could possibly mean.

He turns off his mobile data. He can laugh at his comment section later.

After the plane takes off and they are cruising through the air, Raihan passes the time watching Leon rack up an impossibly high score playing Tetris on the in-flight entertainment system.

He yawns. ‘Why are you so good at this?’

Leon shrugs, absentmindedly clearing four rows. ‘It’s just like battling, read what’s coming ahead and prepare for it.’

Raihan lets his eyes drift shut. ‘You really dedicated your whole life to battling, huh.’

Leon does not reply.

When Raihan wakes up, he will realise that he has managed to sleep through the entire twelve-hour flight with his head resting on Leon’s shoulder.

The second Raihan steps off the plane, he realises Hoenn’s climate is sticky-hot.

By the time they’re out of the airport, he’s already stripped down to nothing but his t-shirt and jeans. ‘You weren’t kidding about the weather.’

Leon shrugs. He looks like a golden snapback-wearing statue under the sunlight. With a strange pang, Raihan realises that Leon looks even better now that he’s out of dreary cloud-covered Galar. ‘It’s not that bad. You’ll get used to it.’

He feels a little naked without his usual sweater, but if he puts it back on, he’s pretty sure his sweat will soak through all his layers.

A voice interrupts his misery. ‘Hey! Over here!’

An unfamiliar girl with very explosive red hair is waving at them.

Before Raihan can ask who it is, Leon is already waving back and walking forward. ‘Ah, you must be Flannery!’

Raihan has no choice but to break into a light jog to keep up.

She grins, putting her hands on her hips. Raihan almost wishes _he_ were the one wearing a crop top, public decency be damned. ‘Leon, right? Uncle Kabu told me all about you.’

_Uncle Kabu?_ Raihan mouths, but Leon ignores him. For now.

‘I’m sure he exaggerated some of it.’ Leon chuckles. ‘Thank you so much for taking the time to come get us, though.’

She laughs, loud and boisterous. ‘It’s nothing, I’ve got all this free time on my hands, it’s the least I could do for Uncle Kabu’s friends.’

She looks at Raihan with a polite, if slightly confused smile, and he remembers to introduce himself. ‘Er— I’m Raihan, the Dragon-type Gym Leader. Of Galar,’ he quickly adds.

He can almost feel Leon laughing at him.

‘Oh, the really good one, right? I’ve heard people say that you could easily be Champion of another region if you just moved.’ She taps a finger on her cheek. ‘You sure do look strong, at least.’

Something about her frank, friendly demeanour makes it easy for him to relax and laugh. ‘Yeah, I’ve been told. Can’t say the climate here agrees with me though.’

She smiles at him. ‘You’ll get used to it, don’t worry. You should come down to Lavaridge Town if you have the time! Our hot springs are one of the best in the world. I’ll show you around, and maybe we can even have a battle, if you want.’

‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he threatens lightly with a grin of his own.

A delicate, pleasant voice drifts in. ‘Stop picking fights with the guests before they’ve even had time to settle down.’

He turns back to see a slim, well-dressed man with artfully-tousled hair and a large, flowing cape, and that is all he needs to know that he is looking at Hoenn’s Champion. It seems like flashiness is a universal constant of Championship, even across national borders.

Leon raises an eyebrow, but his surprise is entirely pleasant. ‘I’m surprised you’re here.’

Hoenn’s Champion acknowledges Galar’s with a nod. ‘You know how awful our schedules can be,’ he says. Raihan can see the perfectly-blended concealer under his eyes. ‘But Flannery doesn’t have any Pokémon that can surf across water, and there’s no other way to get to the place you’ll be staying at.’

Flannery leans in and stage-whispers to Raihan, ‘So I bullied him into coming by calling his ex, and she made him come.’

‘Flannery,’ the Champion says mildly.

She snickers.

He brushes it off like water. ‘Anyway, where are my manners? I am Wallace, Champion of Hoenn and Master Coordinator.’

Raihan has no idea what that last part is referring to, but he nods along anyway. ‘Nice to meet you. Are you going to be having some kind of exhibition match against Leon, or…’

Wallace wrinkles his nose. ‘Oh, goodness, no. I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of time. Leon isn’t exactly here in his official capacity, anyway, and I’m sorry to say that I’m really not that fond of battling.’

Huh. Interesting.

Leon slaps Wallace’s back, and the Hoenn Champion winces. ‘He’s very good, though. That Milotic can take a lot of Solarbeams.’

A smile creeps across Wallace’s face. ‘She is very dazzling,’ he agrees, ‘but she prefers Contests.’

‘Such a shame,’ Leon says with a wide grin. ‘If you’re not careful, maybe Raihan will end up going after that cape of yours.’

Wallace looks oddly hopeful to hear that. ‘Really?’

Raihan snorts. ‘No thanks, I’m busy enough just trying to rub Leon’s face into the dirt.’

‘Oh.’ The hopeful look wipes off Wallace’s face. ‘What a shame. Anyway, we can talk more on the way there. Have you ever ridden on the back of a Wailord, by chance?’

Wallace’s smile is suspiciously picture-perfect. Raihan eyes him warily. ‘No, we don’t really have the space for Wailord riding in Galar.’

The Hoenn Champion _smirks_. ‘Oh, I believe you’ll find this very fun.’


	3. Chapter 3

‘Just come on,’ Leon says patiently, holding out a hand. His smile is gentle, but Raihan can tell from the curve in his eyes that he’s laughing at Raihan’s current predicament.

Raihan clings to the wooden railing of the pier with the same desperation as a man about to be swallowed by a hurricane. All around them, the seas are gentle, but still the crash of the waves against the shore threatens to drown out his demand of, ‘How?’

Wailord’s massive shadow looms over him, an insurmountable wall bobbing like an extremely oversized buoy in the ocean. It could be a case of his nerves exaggerating things, but he almost swears that the Pokémon is wider _and_ taller than any of the stadiums he’s ever battled in. He doesn’t need to squint at the top of the wall to know that the Hoenn Gym Leader and Champion are probably laughing at him.

Leon is, for some reason, still standing next to him on the ground instead of enjoying his misery together with the other two Wailord riding veterans. ‘You just step on his side and climb.’

‘There is _nothing_ to hold on to,’ Raihan insists. In fact, he doesn’t know how Wallace managed to scale the beast so effortlessly. The lanky Champion had practically shot up the Pokémon’s side with the same ease and grace as a very long cat.

‘It’s just like rock climbing.’ Leon’s voice is soothing. In a less stressful situation, it would be tying Raihan’s stomach into all sorts of knots. ‘He’s like a wet balloon, with your core strength you could probably walk straight up if you wanted to.’

In a less stressful situation, Raihan would probably also question _why_ Leon knows so much about his abs. But for now, he settles for a dubious poke at the large Pokémon’s blubber.

It squeaks.

‘See?’ Leon puts a hand on the Wailord’s side. When he pulls it away, the Pokémon’s blue skin briefly clings to his hand like a very stretchy elastic jelly before finally bouncing back with a sharp snap.

Wallace’s voice drifts in with the cries of the Wingulls circling overhead. ‘I hate to interrupt your chat, but if you don’t hurry, he may start splashing around. He hates getting too dry.’

With a groan, Raihan lets go of the pier and starts climbing. After a few initial missteps and one dangerous, nerve-wracking slip, he’s surprised to find how easy it is.

After a minute or so, he looks up to find a hand held out in front of him. He gladly takes it.

Flannery grins as she pulls him up without so much as a huff of exertion. ‘There you go.’

Raihan throws himself onto the very welcome horizontal surface with a sigh of relief. His sweat pools underneath him, and his body starts to slide, inch by inch, across the Pokémon’s back.

He shudders. Climbing a drenched Wailord would be _impossible_.

Faintly, he hears the tell-tale flap of Charizard’s wings. He looks up to find Leon— that scheming _bastard_ — riding in on his Charizard’s back, looking a little too pleased with himself. He’d even gotten Charizard to hold _both_ of their suitcases.

Charizard lands soundlessly, careful to keep the flame of his tail far away from the Wailord’s skin. He lets out a cry in greeting, and the Pokémon beneath him replies with a haunting, rumbling cry of his own.

Leon hops off his Pokémon’s back and reaches both arms out, and Charizard hands over his cargo obligingly.

Raihan watches all of this with a scowl as he gets to his feet. ‘Why couldn’t _I_ have come up like that?’ he demands.

Leon’s face exudes too-much innocence. ‘Charizard only has two hands.’

The overgrown lizard has the nerve to snort. It comes out of his nostrils in a plume of smoke.

Before Raihan can humiliate himself further and start bickering with a lizard shorter than he is, Leon clicks Charizard’s Poké Ball. The vertically challenged lizard disappears in a red beam of light.

‘Right,’ Wallace says, clapping his hands together, ‘shall we set off?’

‘Yeah, sorry for the delay,’ Leon apologises, but Wallace is already waving him off.

‘No need to worry, my schedule is clear until the evening. Besides, it’s only a short trip.’

Beneath them, Wailord rumbles, and then the scenery starts to move around them. Now that Raihan is no longer faced with the question of how to climb a metaphorical cliff face, the awe sinks in. He’s no country bumpkin, but he’s never seen _this_ much water in his life. All around him is the sparkling of the waves, punctuated by the occasional school of fish Pokémon jumping out, heads turned curiously toward the giant whale cutting across the ocean like a very big and round knife splitting the sea into two.

In the distance, he can see tiny islands, dotted with people. On one of the tiniest islands, there is a couple sitting on the sand, one person resting their head on the other’s shoulder, their fingers intertwined as they laugh at some secret shared in the same breath.

For some reason, he finds his gaze landing on Leon, only to find his rival already looking back at him. One step ahead, like always.

Raihan blinks, startled. ‘What?’

‘Pretty,’ Leon mumbles, almost like he’s in a daze.

With a small chuckle, Raihan turns back to the endless expanse of the sea. ‘Yeah, it is.’

Emboldened by the sights, he inches closer to the edge and looks down. A school of Carvanha leap out of the water. The sunlight catches on their red and blue scales, throwing iridescent reflections against the waves as they dive and emerge from the sea again and again like ribbons dancing in the sun. Behind, he can see two Wailmer bouncing like skipping stones, keeping pace with their Wailord with curious grunts.

He laughs when they spray Wailord with their spouts, and Wailord flicks a lazy fin in response. The resulting wave is large enough to drag indignant cries out of the Wailmer as they are pushed well out of splashing range.

He takes a step forward, and suddenly, the world spins and all he can see is the sun in the clear blue sky. Gravity pulls him down from behind, his left knee bending while his right slips on a wet spot, sending him careening over the edge—

He falls, until he isn’t falling anymore.

He doesn’t need to look up to know who’s grabbing his arm, not when he can smell Leon’s shampoo in the purple strands falling into his face.

When he does look up, it’s just in time to see the panic in Leon’s eyes warm into something lighter. ‘Should I feed you to the sharks?’ he suggests.

Raihan laughs, and casts his worries out to sea. ‘Like hell you would. Where else would you find another “one true rival”?’

The warmth shifts, ever-so-slightly, until Raihan can no longer make out the edges of the shape of the emotion in his eyes.

But Leon is smiling at him, only at him, when he pulls him back to safety, and that is and will always be more than enough. ‘Where indeed.’

Fortunately, they make it to their destination without any further dalliances with sharks.

When the floating town drifts in on the horizon, Raihan can only stare in speechless wonder. The sea breeze gives way to the strange, but not unwelcome scent of salt-petrified wood. The entire town, a colony of wooden houses built atop a small, intimate, interwoven cluster of rafts and logs, rises and sinks with the whims of the tides.

‘We’ve arrived,’ Wallace announces, somewhat redundantly.

Their sea-faring vessel bumps into the floating raft that houses the local Pokémon Center, and Raihan is slightly relieved to find that he’s not the only one who stumbles.

Wailord lets out a low rumble of apology.

Wallace pats him. Raihan’s not sure if the Pokémon can even feel his Trainer’s hand. ‘It’s alright. Thank you for bringing us here.’

The large whale lets out a slightly higher-pitched rumble. He sounds pleased.

Behind Wallace, Leon pulls out a Poké Ball and releases Charizard in a flash of red light. The flying lizard takes one look at the suitcases, then at the wooden town, and then he sighs and holds his arms out again.

Leon scratches his partner-turned-valet behind the ears. ‘Thanks,’ he says, grinning.

This time, Raihan has the sense to release Flygon from his Poké Ball. When the Pokémon emerges, he looks around, curious at the new sights, before perking up and chittering excitedly.

‘Oh? You recognise it here?’ Raihan can’t help the fond smile that stretches across his face, and he reaches out to pat his Pokémon’s head. ‘Yeah, we’re in Hoenn, buddy.’

Flygon chirps, flattening himself down on the ground so that Raihan can climb onto his back.

He can hear Leon teasing him. ‘Not going down the traditional way?’

Raihan glares at him, and his rival has the audacity to laugh harder.

Before he can fire back with a witty retort of his own, Flygon is already flapping his powerful wings once, twice, and then the wind is howling in his ears and they’re hurtling through the air.

They circle the perimeter of the town, Raihan holding on tight while Flygon does loop-de-loops and other fancy aerial manoeuvres. His Pokémon must be overjoyed to be back in his home region.

Beneath them, he sees some locals staring up at him. He waves with a cheeky grin, and they smile and wave back, but then Flygon extends his wings and Raihan soars higher and higher until they are skimming the clouds.

From this vantage point, Raihan can see the jagged grey rocks that line the eastern and western sea routes leading out of town. The town is tiny, he realises, with only five other buildings aside from the Pokémon Center.

Off in the distance, far to the east, he almost swears that there is a huge, vertical structure extending all the way up to the heavens, piercing the clouds in the sky, but then Flygon descends and the impossible sight fades.

When he turns back, he sees only clouds.

Upon landing, two things immediately catch his eye.

Firstly, Wailord is conspicuously missing, so Wallace must have returned him to his Poké Ball.

Secondly, and more importantly, Wallace is speaking to _Charizard_ while holding up a small, compact, disc-shaped device that projects a map of the region into the air.

‘This is where we are right now,’ he points at a tiny dot in the southern region of the map, then at an isolated dot to the east in the middle of a lot of water, ‘and this is Sootopolis, where I live.’

Charizard nods.

‘And this,’ Wallace points at an island far to the south of Sootopolis, ‘is the Battle Frontier.’

Charizard nods again.

Leon isn’t even pretending to be paying attention. Instead, he’s laughing at something that Flannery said, then replies, ‘Yeah, I’m completely hopeless with directions.’

Raihan dismounts Flygon and snorts.

Wallace looks up and blinks. ‘Ah, good, you’re back. I was just showing Charizard a map of the area. I suppose you’re better with directions than Leon is?’

‘ _Anyone_ would be.’ Raihan snickers.

Leon smiles brightly, unfazed. ‘I can always count on Raihan to come find me when I’m lost.’

For some reason, Flannery stares at the two of them, then turns to give Wallace a knowing smirk. ‘Are all Champions and eighth Gym Leaders like this?’

Raihan has no idea what they’re talking about, but it’s still interesting nonetheless to see the Hoenn Champion’s pretty face marred with a scowl.

‘Enough,’ he says, far-too-curt for the jovial atmosphere, and Flannery lets it go with a shrug.

‘Alright.’

Raihan meets Leon’s gaze, sending him a silent question, but Leon only gives a helpless, confused shrug of his own in reply.

Wallace’s voice is as light and smooth as ever when he picks up the conversation again. ‘Anyway, I think you should hold on to this.’

He thrusts the disc-shaped map-projection device into Raihan’s hands.

‘This is a PokéNav. It’s like our version of the Rotom Phone. I’ve already loaded the regional map data, as well the contact information of some important people. There’s GPS, of course, so you shouldn’t get too lost.’

The disc is smooth polished metal in his hands. It’s sturdy, yet surprisingly light.

‘Wow.’ Raihan clicks a button on the side, and with a whirr, the disc rearranges itself into a small, clamshell-shaped phone. ‘Thanks.’

While he puts the device away, Wallace takes the time to admire his Flygon, who cocks his head and chirps curiously.

‘By the way, have you ever considered trying out Contests?’ A glazed, faraway look enters Wallace’s eyes. ‘Your Flygon is very graceful. I would love to see him on stage.’

Raihan has heard of the region’s unique competition, but only in vague details. ‘I’ve never had the chance to, but it does sound interesting.’ He would be able to post so many photos of his precious Pokémon showing off their moves and looking good. The likes would flood in. His fans would go wild. He could take so many videos. Flygon would look so handsome.

The more he thinks about it, the more tempting it sounds.

The effects of the temptation must be showing on Raihan’s face, because the tempter himself slips into a devilish smile. ‘Well, if you’re ever keen to try, feel free to give me a call. I can always make time for a Contest.’

Wallace’s phone beeps, and just like that, the Hoenn Champion is called away to his work. Leon piles him with some of the Galarian souvenirs they’d purchased at the airport, and the other Champion accepts them with a profuse apology and a promise to catch up over dinner sometime.

After he takes off on the back of a Skarmory (weird, he’d always thought the Hoenn Champion preferred Water-types), Flannery takes Raihan’s suitcase and starts walking. ‘Come on! You must be tired, I’m sure you’re just about ready to crash into bed.’

He trails behind her, unable to convince her to let him carry his own baggage. The Pokémon Center is connected to each of the other floating rafts, like the heart of this tiny community. When Flannery steps onto one of the logs bridging the Pokémon Center to one of the wooden houses, the log sinks slightly beneath the water.

Raihan stares. ‘You sure this thing can take our weight?’

Flannery continues walking. ‘Of course! This town is built on top of a Corsola colony. It’s not as shabby as it looks.’

Almost as if on cue, a lone Corsola surfaces, staring at Leon curiously. Leon gives it a smile and a wave, and it coos happily before diving back down into the water.

He looks up to find Raihan staring at him with one eyebrow raised, and the corners of his lips drop slightly. ‘They look a lot… healthier, wouldn’t you say?’

Unbidden, the image of that cheerful pink Corsola turning into a hollow, broken Cursola surfaces in Raihan’s mind. He shudders. Hoenn must have a history of much better environmental practices. He’s glad that Galar’s energy resources are less damaging, now that—

— _a black storm cloud, swirling in the sky like an impossibly long, slithering snake, and then a flash of red light and a monstrous, eldritch roar—_

 _He is helpless, all is hopeless, and it is all his fault_ —

Flannery’s voice snaps him out of it. ‘We’re here!’

Kabu’s villa is large and well-lit. There is a kitchen stocked with all the essentials, and a dining table that seats four along with a long couch and a low coffee table in the living area. It is the perfect amount of furniture, plenty enough that no one could accuse it of being bare, yet comfortable without being opulent. In other words, it screams _Kabu_.

‘I did my best to clean up,’ Flannery says apologetically, kicking her shoes off at the entryway, ‘but he hasn’t been back in a while, so it might be a little dusty.’

‘You’re too kind,’ Leon says, bending down to undo his laces. Raihan pointedly avoids looking in the general direction of his behind.

Instead, he takes Flannery’s lead and kicks his shoes off haphazardly too. ‘Yeah, it looks great, we really owe you one.’

She waves their gratitude off. ‘It’s really no big deal, just come visit me one of these days if you really wanna make it up to me or something.’

She leads them on a quick tour of the house. There is only one bedroom, and—

Raihan’s thoughts screech to a halt. He can hear Piers laughing at him.

Of course there is only one bed.

For what it’s worth, it is a fairly large bed. Two adults could sleep on it and maintain an entirely platonic, healthy distance. And so he resolves to think nothing of it and leave it as a problem for his future self to deal with.

For now, they put their suitcases in the corner and return to the living room.

‘Right,’ Flannery says, putting her hands on her hips, ‘so if you want food or groceries or anything, you should head to Slateport, over to the west, and that’s about it from me. If you’ve got any questions, just call me. My number’s already in the PokéNav.’

‘Thank you,’ Leon says, for what might be the fifth time.

She grins. ‘Enjoy yourselves! Hoenn’s a great place to relax.’

With that, she hands the key over to Leon, accepts her portion of Galarian souvenirs with unmasked glee, and takes her leave. Now it is just the two of them, alone in a holiday villa halfway across the world, on a vacation poorly disguised as a business trip.

There’s only so much plausible deniability Raihan can work with, but he’ll do what he can.

Leon stretches with a yawn. The hem of his shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of skin and the faintest shadow clinging to the curve of his hipbone—

Raihan looks away. ‘You wanna get food?’

While he waits for Leon to freshen up, he sinks into the couch and pulls out his phone.

 _i hate you_ , is the text he sends to Piers with zero explanation.

The reply comes instantly. The ex-Gym Leader must have plenty of free time now that his sister has taken over his position.

_two bros sleeping three inches apart cos they’re not gay :-)_

His phone chimes again.

_also idk what happened but i think your fans are convinced that you’ve finally moved to another region to become champion_

_they’re having breakdowns_

_please do something to calm them down_

He immediately opens his social media app and scrolls through the comments on his latest post. Piers’s smirking emoji is still there, on damning full display to the world as the most-liked comment on his post, but underneath that, there is, indeed, a complete shitstorm of too-many-people jumping to increasingly absurd conclusions in his comments.

And so he gets up and starts shooting a video, careful to avoid showing the two pairs of shoes at the front door. The wooden floors of the villa show up nicely on his camera, and the windows are half-moons of sea and sky. He walks toward one window, pleased to find that the sea is sparkling purple and gold in the twilight of the setting sun.

He hears the bedroom door swing open, and he immediately hits the button to end the recording.

‘What are you doing?’ Leon asks.

Raihan busies himself uploading the video and typing a suitably business-trip-like caption. ‘Just reminding my fans that I’m alive s’all. They think I’ve moved away. Gone bonkers in my thirst to be Champion or something.’

Leon lets out a faint chuckle of amusement. His hair has been coaxed out of its usual fluffy spikes, and now it is long and straight, framing his face with only the slightest of waves. If Raihan didn’t know better, he could almost mistake him for a pretty girl.

‘You’d think they’d know better by now,’ Leon says absentmindedly.

Raihan hits the post button and puts his phone away. ‘What do you mean?’

It is precisely because Leon speaks with such offhanded confidence that Raihan has no witty retort when he declares, ‘You wouldn’t have half as much fun if you weren’t challenging me.’

They fly toward Slateport, Raihan leading the way, one hand on his Flygon’s back and the other keeping a tight grip on the PokéNav. Leon follows behind easily, his Charizard keeping pace with Flygon without so much as a grunt in complaint.

The two of them have flown together on many occasions, but that had mostly been a thing of their youth, when they had too much time and freedom. Even so, muscle memory brings back their bad habits, and so they dart toward the shining lights of the port city at breakneck speeds.

Beneath them, the sea is a black abyss, punctuated by the occasional light from the lantern of a small boat. As they approach the city, the vessels anchored in the water slowly grow larger and larger, until they see rows and rows of cruisers docked at shore.

They land on one of the jetties stretching from dry land all the way out to the ocean.

It is a big, bustling city, so they quickly return their large Pokémon to their Poké Balls.

‘You got anything in mind?’ Raihan asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking toward the beach. It is much cooler now that the sun is no longer beating down on him. The sea breeze whips against his skin, leaving tiny flecks of salt.

Leon shrugs. ‘Not really. You?’

Raihan thinks, then breaks into a grin. ‘You think Hoenn has better seafood than that place in Hulbury?’

It does.

Raihan almost sobs when he digs the lobster out of its shell. It melts like butter in his mouth. ‘This is so good,’ he moans.

Leon is too busy stuffing his face with scallops to grace him with a reply.

When the bill arrives, Leon refuses to let him even look at it. With one hand firmly holding Raihan’s face far away from the check, he hands his card to the waiter, who is obviously trying very hard not to laugh.

‘I’ll get you back for that,’ Raihan says sullenly, kicking up the sand on the beach. They are on a slow, leisurely post-dinner stroll to walk off the meal they had just indulged in.

Leon gives him an amused look. ‘Alright,’ he concedes, ‘I’ll let you pick up the tab for the next meal.’

Overhead, the skies are dark. The city lights are too bright for them to see the stars from here, but Raihan thinks back to the tiny cluster of wooden huts and wonders if the half-moon of sea and sky in the windows will be speckled with light.

The shifting sands beneath their feet give way to the sturdy wood of the jetties. He pulls Flygon’s Poké Ball out of his pocket, then freezes.

Leon and Charizard are both staring at him. ‘What’s wrong?’

He releases Flygon and hopes that the darkness covers the heat marking his face. ‘Nothing.’

Now he remembers. The villa. The bedroom. The problem his past self had elected to leave to his current self.

 _There is only one bed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wailord is a [big boy](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/legendsofthemultiuniverse/images/6/64/Marlon_Wailord.png/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/1000?cb=20170217144305)


	4. Chapter 4

Piers is not surprised when his phone starts vibrating rapidly.

He does not look away from the colourful rows of bars denoting the notes of different musical instruments on his computer screen. It is rare for the melody in his head to flow onto his editing program like water, and he does not want to let his muse slip from his fingers.

_Buzz_.

He hits the spacebar and listens to what he has so far. The melody begins with bass synths that start strong, but fade in volume once the drumbeats kick in. The staging is just right, with the synths positioned an unobtrusive distance away.

_Buzz_.

Here, the piano joins the melody, but it sounds slightly too clean against the drumbeats muddied by the synths. It cannot be helped. There are only so many instruments that serve as placeholders for a human voice.

_Buzz_.

_Buzz_.

In the hook of the intro, he’s taken the liberty of adding some soaring violins. They help add some dimension to the song, and he doesn’t want to overwork the bass.

_Buzz_.

_Buzz_.

_Buzz_.

And now the electric and bass guitars join in, an exciting flurry of—

_Buzz_.

He pauses the song and snatches up his damned phone.

All twenty unread messages are from Raihan, of course.

_what_ , is the grumpy greeting he sends before bothering to read the string of messages. He vaguely notes that there are a lot of capital letters and typos.

Raihan’s reply comes instantly.

_OENB EB_

Ah.

Piers is torn. On one hand, he’s pretty sure his song is almost done, with only a little more polishing needed. It’s not the kind of work that takes too much creative energy out of him, and Raihan’s dramatic and wilfully stupid love life is always a welcome source of inspiration. On the other, it would be a shame to leave the song half-done when he’s been making such good progress.

_bro stop ignoring me_

With a long-suffering sigh, Piers abandons his work.

He turns away from his monitor and starts scrolling through the old messages, hunched over his phone. He had warned Raihan about the odds of Kabu having more than one bed, so he hardly sees how any of this is his problem.

_just sleep together already_

He sees Raihan start texting, and then stop, and then start again, typing for a long stretch until he stops again.

_we’re not like that_

Piers has to marvel at how both the Champion and his mutual crush can be so obnoxiously blind to their own feelings. Raihan’s blindness might be entirely self-imposed, but the scary thing is that he’s almost certain that Leon is genuinely unaware of his own feelings. Every time Piers catches Leon scowling at him, he can tell that the Champion has no idea what kind of face he’s making, if only because he’s entirely transparent and full of genuine affable goodwill every other time he interacts with Piers.

His deep knowledge of their relationship status is, fortunately, not due to any personal interest on his part. Rather, it’s mostly thanks to the casual betting pool that the other Gym Leaders have had going on for the past six years. For some reason, _Milo_ of all people is currently in the lead. Piers is close behind, though.

Also, that message is far too short. Piers has to wonder how many times Raihan had erased and retyped his text.

_if you’re really no homo then why are you freaking out so much_

This time, Raihan’s reply comes instantly.

_look just help me think of a way to convince leon to let me sleep on the floor, okay?_

Dodging the question. Of course. Piers can feel a headache coming on. With a sigh, he navigates over to Raihan’s social media profile and watches his latest video again.

Kabu’s surprisingly large sofa catches his eye.

_why don’t you take the sofa?_

He doesn’t offer Raihan the saving grace of letting him know that the end of his video had captured the sound of Leon opening their (presumably) shared bedroom door. His fans are already having so much fun speculating, it would be unkind of him to deny them their gossip fuel.

_you know how he is, he’d argue with me and then he’d end up being the one to sleep on the sofa_

He wonders how much it would cost to make a conveniently Raihan-shaped voodoo doll. It would be extremely gratifying to stab a pin into the doll’s head. And maybe its groin, too.

_so you want me to help you come up with a winning argument to make sure your beloved rival’s all tucked in nice and warm in bed while you shiver on the sofa?_

It is unlikely that spelling out Raihan’s foolishness in plain, simple language will help him connect the heart-shaped dots in his head. Piers should know. He’d abandoned all hope four years ago.

_it's a very comfortable sofa_

Piers covers his face with one hand. It is sometimes necessary to disengage from sheer stupidity for the sake of one’s mental health.

Unfortunately, reality is cruel, and it issues an unavoidable demand for Piers to uncover his eyes and confront his best friend’s raging stupidity.

_then just say that the sofa’s more comfortable for you or something. pretend the bed’s too short for you, i don’t fucking know_

Now that he thinks about it, Hoenn isn’t exactly known for having the tallest people in the world, so his lame excuse may hold more merit than he’d originally intended.

_bro you’re a genius_

Piers can feel his last brain cell shrivel up and die.

Leon is, in Raihan’s opinion, disproportionately upset.

‘What do you mean you’re sleeping on the sofa?’ Leon’s gaze is sharp. His mouth is set into a displeased frown.

Raihan stares at the round window. Just moments earlier, they had been soaring through the skies, the black sea beneath them filled with a million shimmering stars. After they’d made it back to the villa, Leon had been in good spirits up until Raihan had emerged from the bathroom, where he’d been hiding for ten minutes holed up texting Piers.

Once he’d stepped into the bedroom and offhandedly mentioned his plan to sleep in the living room, all hell had broken loose.

‘What’s the big deal?’ he snaps back. ‘Where else would I be sleeping?’

Leon glares at him, opening his mouth to shoot back a reply. Then he freezes, eyes wide in surprise. It’s obvious that he hasn’t thought too hard into their whole bed situation.

In a very typically Leon move, he changes gears and leaps to a new attack strategy. ‘There aren’t enough blankets,’ he points out.

Raihan curses internally. He can only hope Piers’s excuse is convincing enough.

‘I’m pretty sure the bed’s too short for me anyway.’

He doesn’t expect Leon to narrow his eyes and cross his arms. Raihan finds his attention drawn to the pale brown skin of his chest, where he’d unbuttoned the first two buttons on his dress shirt. Even his cuffs are undone. He looks very casual. He also looks like he’d been in the middle of undressing. It is a very distracting look that prompts many vague distracting thoughts.

‘How would you know? You haven’t tried sleeping on it.’

Raihan sends out a prayer to whatever god might be listening. ‘I’ve seen enough beds in my life to know when I won’t be able to fit into one.’

Leon remains unconvinced. ‘And the sofa’s long enough for you?’

It had been a very long sofa. Raihan also remembers sinking into it earlier. It would make for a very comfortable bed. Piers’s suggestion is starting to look more and more viable by the second.

He leans against their bedroom door. ‘Look, at least with the sofa I won’t have to worry about bumping my head on the headboard or getting chafed ankles from the bedframe.’

Leon still looks displeased, but some of the fight goes out of his shoulders. ‘Fine,’ he says, biting his lip and swallowing whatever it was he’d meant to say instead. Concern flickers in his golden eyes. ‘If that’s what helps you sleep.’

Raihan immediately turns and leaves the bedroom. He doesn’t think he can bear the weight of the genuine— _whatever_ it is behind that gaze, especially not after that whole weird conversation with Piers.

Still, he is gentle when he closes the door behind him. Beyond, he can hear Leon shuffling around the bedroom, and then the soft thud of bedsprings coiling when he sits down on the bed.

Their battle is over.

Raihan closes his eyes and lets out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He is used to fighting with Leon. Anything from tiny, inconsequential bickering to full-out angry shouting matches— he’s been through them all, thanks in no small part to them having weathered puberty together.

But there’s something about their arguments lately that just seems off, like they’re having two different conversations entirely instead of clashing head-on like they’d used to.

He wants to chase down the thought, to follow the slippery, insubstantial wisp to its logical conclusion, but in the depths of the silent stillness of this isolated town, the exhaustion he has accumulated over the course of a month collapses upon his shoulders all at once and the thought slips away.

He does not even think of changing into more comfortable clothes when he crashes onto the sofa. It is soft enough to sink into, yet firm enough that it feels like it could support his weight properly. In other words, it is perfect.

And yes, it is long enough.

The ceiling lights are bright. He squints. He should get up and turn those off.

But the sea breeze is cool against his skin when it slips in through the open windows, and the waves are crashing against wood logs with a slow rhythm like-a-heartbeat, and that is all it takes to lull him to a peaceful slumber.

There is a blanket covering him when he wakes.

He can hear the cries of Wingull over the crash of the waves. For a moment, he forgets where he is, wonders if the Hammerlocke energy plant is in trouble—

Then he opens his eyes and sees Leon sitting at the dining table, the pink light of dawn pouring in through the window behind him.

His rival is dressed in a plain white T-shirt and black sweatpants. He has his head resting on top of his folded arms. His eyes are closed.

If Raihan weren’t so groggy, he might have noticed how his breathing is a touch too-unsteady, the lines on his face too-deep and his eyebags too-dark. He would realise that the exhaustion written on his features cannot be the product of a single sleepless night. He would remember that when he haunts Hammerlocke’s libraries at ungodly hours of the morning, he rarely does so alone.

Instead, he wonders why he has no memory of turning off the lights in the living room.

His eyes are so heavy. He can’t keep them open. He keeps slipping back into the clutches of a nice, peaceful dream, no matter how he tries to convince himself to wake up.

The instant he starts to shift in his makeshift bed, Leon opens his eyes.

There is no fog of sleep in his clear, haunted gaze. ‘Go back to sleep,’ he says. It sounds like a command, except there is no strength behind it.

He sounds so hollow, so tired.

When Raihan falls back into his slumber, he forgets that this exchange ever happened.

It sounds like there is a Wingull crying right into his ear.

Raihan jolts awake.

For some reason, there is, indeed, a Wingull in the house. The chirpy little thing is happily perched on Leon’s arm.

‘—things over there, lil bro?’ Leon’s voice is loud and full.

Raihan groans. Leon has always been too cheerful in the mornings.

He hears Hop’s voice through the speakers of Leon’s phone. ‘Great! Sonia’s been showing me how the books are organised in the lab. She approved my research idea!’ Hop whoops.

Sometimes, Raihan has to wonder if the excessive energy is a genetic thing, or if Hop has just chosen to adopt all of his older brother’s bad habits.

‘That’s great! What are you researching?’

The Wingull caws. The sound is starting to grate on Raihan’s ears.

He rolls over and blindly reaches for a pillow. When his hands meet the side of the sofa, he remembers where he is, and, more importantly, the unfortunate lack of pillows in his vicinity.

Maybe closing his eyes will help shut his ears, too.

As if suddenly aware of the imminent threat to its life, the bird stays silent.

After a moment’s hesitation, Hop admits, ‘Just taking a look at the properties of Wooloo wool s’all. It’s not much, but it’s my first project, so I’m pretty excited about—'

‘That’s incredible!’ Raihan doesn’t need to lift his head to know that Leon’s eyes are probably sparkling. ‘You’ll be a professor in no time!’

Hop sounds shy but pleased when he says, ‘Sonia’s been praising me a lot, saying I do a good job helping out around the lab and all, but I’m sure I still have lots to—’

Leon laughs. ‘What’s with the sudden modesty, Hop? You’re doing great if Sonia’s saying nice things to you. Isn’t that right, Raihan?’

_Now_ Raihan opens his eyes.

Leon has made a seat out of the sofa’s armrest. The Wingull has moved its perch from his arm to his shoulder.

On cue, Leon’s Rotom Phone turns to face Raihan. He sees his dishevelled self in a tiny window on the upper right corner of the screen, but Hop’s delighted face takes up most of the glass panel.

‘Oh! So _you_ ’re the mystery person in Raihan’s video, Lee?’

That gets Raihan’s attention. He bolts upright. ‘Wait, what?’

Unnoticed, the blanket falls from his shoulders, pooling in his lap.

Hop continues cheerfully, ‘I saw the comments on your post, but I didn’t think you’d be careless enough to post something so obvious, even if you _did_ get into a one-night stand or something.’

Something vaguely murderous is inching across the otherwise serene expression on Leon’s face, so Raihan quickly demands, ‘Who taught you that word?’

Hop rolls his eyes. ‘I’m not a baby anymore, Raihan, geez.’

Raihan’s fingers are itching. He needs to pull out his phone and check his social media, right now—

But Hop is right there vibrating with barely-contained excitement, so Raihan tries to ignore the growing horror in his chest. ‘Anyway, what were you saying? Oh yeah, Sonia isn’t the type to just give out praises willy-nilly. Trust me, I’d know.’ Sonia has, on more than one occasion, made pointed comments about his brain function. Something about a ridiculous deliberate lack of self-awareness or something. He always tunes her out when she starts nagging, though, so he doesn’t know the details. ‘She means them.’

Hop grins. It’s a wide, proud grin that mirrors Leon’s. ‘You really think so?’

Raihan snorts, reaching up to re-tie his hair, if only to give his fingers something to do besides drum against his phone screen nervously. ‘Course I do. You work hard, you’re a good kid, what more could she ask for?’

By the time Hop ends the call and goes to bed, Raihan knows far more about Wooloo wool than he’s ever wanted to in his entire life.

Leon is beaming when he apologises. ‘Sorry about that, didn’t think it’d wake you up.’

The Wingull cries out meekly.

Raihan glares at it. ‘No more Wingull in the house before I’m awake,’ he threatens.

The Wingull falls silent. It seems to be mirroring Leon’s kicked-puppy face.

While Leon goes to the window to coax the bird out of their house, Raihan flicks his social media app open. His notifications are muted, for obvious reasons. The last time he’d tried leaving them on, he’d had to reset his entire phone because it kept crashing from the sheer volume and frequency of the banners flying across his screen.

His latest post is slightly more lively than usual. That is not a good thing. There are many comments of a single timestamp at the very end of his video. When he clicks on it, he hears the faint sound of a door being pushed open.

Fuck.

His fans are making ridiculously wild speculations. He’s not sure which he finds more horrifying, the comments suggesting that he’s having a very luxurious one-night stand, or the ones that insist he’s finally revealing his secret girlfriend.

It’s been a while since he’s made such a bad gaffe on his social media. He is usually careful to avoid posting any private information. He’s even gotten good at recognising reflective surfaces just by walking into a room.

He takes a deep breath and tries to tell himself that things will be fine, that the internet will have moved on to the next big juicy piece of drama after a couple of hours at most.

Leon returns from the window with the Wingull conspicuously missing from his shoulder. ‘Did something happen? You look upset.’

Raihan exhales. ‘It’s nothing, just some weird comments again. You know how it is.’

Leon probably does not know “how it is”. Oleana has never let him use any of his official social media, and even now he seems generally disinterested in managing his online presence. He is only allowed to post on the account he made specifically for photos of his Charizard, and Raihan highly doubts he gets any comments that contain actual words instead of a million hearts or crying emojis.

He does not expect Leon to reach forward and pluck his phone out of his hands.

Raihan frowns. ‘What are you—’

‘It’s a Saturday night in Galar,’ Leon says lightly, holding it out of reach. ‘No one’s at work. You don’t need to be contactable.’

Raihan scoffs. ‘You can’t seriously think you can keep me away from my phone. The people want to see my vacation selfies, y’know.’

Leon still refuses to hand his phone over. ‘Go take a shower,’ he says instead. ‘We’re meeting the owner of the Battle Frontier for lunch.’

‘What time is it?’ he asks sourly. If he had his phone with him, he’d be able to check the time.

‘It’s eleven. If you hurry, we might make it before the lunch crowd gets in.’ Leon is tapping away at his own phone, the hypocritical bastard.

Now that he’s fully awake, he feels strangely refreshed. Raihan doesn’t remember the last time he’s slept in. Scratch that, he doesn’t even remember the last time he’s slept so well.

He scowls at Leon, who seems awfully pleased with himself. ‘Fine. But you’re giving it back once we get there.’

The owner of the Battle Frontier is a very scary man.

He has very wavy hair that curls around his head in a way that vaguely reminds Raihan of a Snorlax. He wears sunglasses all the time, even indoors. With his blue, gaudy floral print shirt, he looks more like a tourist than his Galarian guests.

The restaurant had been almost empty when they had arrived. The second they had made their way past the reception area, the owner of the Battle Frontier had immediately stood up and waved at them. ‘Well, if it isn’t Leon! You really came all the way out here!’

They make their way to the table, and the Battle Frontier owner turns to Raihan with a very pleased smile. ‘You must be Raihan! I’ve heard many things about you. They say you’re strong enough to be Champion.’

The light reflects off his sunglasses. It almost looks ominous. Raihan doesn’t know what to make of it.

‘Anywhere but Galar, I suppose,’ he quips wryly. Leon has the grace to laugh.

Throughout the conversation, Raihan can feel the man’s excitement mounting. He learns that his name is Scott, and that he has a passion for discovering strong trainers. Scott explains how the Battle Frontier works, with its seven distinct Battle Facilities, and the different quirks of each facility. Some facilities seem to be inspired by mazes. Raihan raises an eyebrow when he mentions a facility where Pokémon battle without any direction from their trainers.

‘So I invite strong trainers from all over to come challenge my Frontier Brains,’ he finishes, taking a big bite of his burger.

Leon is listening with rapt attention, his food completely untouched. He frowns. ‘I’m hoping to make my facility open to everyone,’ he admits. ‘I want it to be a place where trainers in Galar can train to get stronger.’

There is raw, unfiltered passion in the ex-champion’s voice. Raihan is content to sit back and listen.

Scott nods. ‘Of course. On an organisational level, I’m sure most of the things you see happening here will still apply. You might need a bigger database to keep track of all the trainers, though…’

The two dive into a discussion about the nitty-gritty of running a battle facility with the same excitement as two children discussing type match-ups. It is almost endearing to see Leon rambling on and on about tier systems and pre-trained Pokémon sets.

He’s always known that Galar’s broad-shouldered heroic Champion is secretly a huge nerd.

Raihan wonders what he’s doing here. No, really, he wonders. So far, it seems like all he’s done is eat his way through Hoenn’s delicacies.

When Scott turns his sunglass-covered gaze on him, though, he gets his answer.

‘I’m very glad that Leon brought you with him,’ he confesses. ‘I was hoping he would. I’ve heard a lot about you. I don’t suppose I could fish you over? I’ve been meaning to start a facility exclusively dedicated to double battles.’

Raihan freezes. This is unexpected. If Leon’s deer-in-the-headlights expression is anything to go by, this is a surprise to him too.

He frantically digs up his polite corporate voice. ‘I’m very flattered,’ he says, and for some reason Leon looks stricken, ‘but I’m afraid I’ve got my hands full running my own Gym in Galar. Not to mention the energy plant.’

The tension leaves Leon’s shoulders.

Scott sighs. ‘Well, can’t say I didn’t try. You’ll try them out, at least? As a trainer, of course.’

Raihan steals a spoonful of Leon’s duck terrine, both because it looks delicious and because he wants to snap his rival out of whatever it is that had taken him. ‘Of course, it’d be my pleasure.’

Scott claps his hands. ‘Great! We can start now.’

The owner of the Battle Frontier stares at Leon’s unsubtle attempt at stealing a forkful of Raihan’s squid ink pasta. ‘Or. Well. Whenever you guys are done with lunch, I guess.’


	5. Chapter 5

Once Raihan and Leon are done bickering over lunch, Scott cheerfully leads them out of the restaurant.

‘I can’t believe you didn’t manage to get the bill,’ Raihan mumbles, driving one sharp elbow into Leon’s side.

Leon has the grace to look abashed. ‘I didn’t even realise he’d paid,’ he whispers back.

Scott doesn’t bother looking back over his shoulder when he raises one hand and waves it flippantly. ‘It’s fine, I own this entire island!’ His laugh is hearty, full, and far too loud for someone who apparently has the money, resources and connections to own a sizable chunk of land in Hoenn.

Raihan meets Leon’s equally startled gaze and mouths, _how did you meet this guy again?_

Leon gives a helpless shrug, then points to the man’s back and mimes receiving a phone call. _I’m not the one who contacted him first_ , is his flimsy defence.

They head west with the smooth, light-grey pavement shining golden in the sun’s rays beneath their feet. Raihan’s not sure how Leon’s surviving the heat in his fancy red coat and cravat. When Raihan had been deciding his outfit for the day, he’d given up on most of his wardrobe and settled for a simple collared shirt and bermuda shorts that Aria must have packed in his suitcase for him.

He wonders how his Gym Trainers are doing, back in Galar. He’s been getting highly impersonal daily reports mailed to his inbox by Camilla, but there’s always a part of him that can’t help but worry for the young trainers. If there’s any trouble, he’s sure that Sebastian would call him immediately—

‘This is the Battle Factory,’ Scott declares, hands proudly resting on the wide stance of his hips while he interrupts Raihan’s train of thought.

Raihan looks up and squints at the horrendously yellow building assaulting his eyeballs. The general shape of the exterior looks exactly like the product of a six-year old’s attempts at slapping several honeycombs together. Before his brain can slap a filter over his mouth, he comments, ‘That’s… a nice shape.’

Thankfully, Scott doesn’t seem to take it as anything but a compliment. ‘Oh yes, we’re very devoted to the theme of each facility. Gotta keep the visitors interested, you know.’

Raihan likes to think that he knows a bit about themes. He did have a hand in Hammerlocke’s main entrance being shaped like a dragon’s maw, after all.

‘Anyway, I’ve heard that the both of you are avid researchers.’ The sunlight glints off Scott’s sunglasses menacingly. ‘So I figured that this would be the best facility to start us off, especially since I doubt you have enough eligible Pokémon between the both of you for a full team.’

Raihan brings a hand to his mouth to hide his chuckle. ‘You got us there. I’ve only got a Torkoal and Flygon.’

Scott grins. ‘Both very viable Pokémon,’ he assures, ‘but as I’m sure you’ve realised, Hoenn is surrounded by water, and it would be very unsporting of me to throw you at my best Trainers with such a terrible type disadvantage.’

Leon laughs. ‘I’m sure Charizard can handle himself.’

‘Oh, yes, you _do_ have to tell me how you got it to learn Solarbeam.’ Scott speaks of their personal information very flippantly. Raihan wouldn’t be surprised if he had entire case files devoted to each of them.

Leon only offers an enigmatic smile. ‘I’m afraid I’ve signed too many non-disclosure agreements.’

Scott sighs, but lets it go. ‘Defeated by the bureaucracy once again, I see. You two are very good at this, by the way.’

Raihan is careful to avoid looking at Leon, but even that proves unnecessary. If the bemused tilt of his head is any indication, it would seem that Leon is genuinely confused by Scott’s pointed jab at their silver tongues. Raihan’s lived and breathed business negotiations for the past two months, so once he gets into the flow of things, deflecting difficult questions is second nature to him at this point. As for Leon, he’s lived half of his life under the scrutiny of the media, so he probably doesn’t even realise when he’s charmingly dodging inquiries.

‘Ah, but where are my manners? I shouldn’t have made you stand out here for so long,’ Scott fusses, and soon the both of them are ushered into the cool, air-conditioned interior of the honeycomb monstrosity building.

Inside, there are a few trainers milling around, but none of them pay them any attention. Raihan sees a few sparks of recognition in some of their eyes, but the faint interest fades as quickly as it came.

He absentmindedly chews his bottom lip while he thinks. Scott had said that this was a place where only the strongest trainers were invited, so the other people here must be important enough that a foreign Gym Leader and Champion are about as exciting as Monday’s copy of the morning news.

Scott points at the two counters on each side of the entrance hall, each staffed by a researcher dressed in a white lab coat. ‘Singles on the left and doubles on the right. Once you’re inside, someone will be there to assist you with your rental Pokémon. Have fun! I’ll be watching from the stands.’

With that, he waves and disappears into the back.

Raihan starts toward the counter on the right, but he doesn’t expect Leon to touch two fingers to his wrist. He stops in his tracks, turning back with an eyebrow raised.

Leon is staring at the floor. ‘Do you want to move here?’

Something warm stirs in Raihan’s stomach. He can’t help but squint at his rival through his incredulous smile. ‘That’s what was bothering you?’

And _now_ Leon’s looking at the curve of the smile in Raihan’s eyes with wide-eyed surprise. It is a very distinctly Leon move to speak of his troubles frankly, and then react with naked wonder when Raihan counters him with bluntness of his own.

Leon’s eyes are shattered, iridescent glass. ‘If you want to leave Galar, you can. I don’t want you to think you have to stay just because—’

It is pure lazy habit that prompts Raihan to reach forward and flick his rival’s forehead. ‘You’re being stupid,’ he says instead of dignifying Leon’s absurd question with an answer. ‘You know I hate the weather here.’

Leon is silent. If Raihan listens closely enough, it sounds a bit like stunned silence.

Unfortunately, Raihan has no idea what kind of face Leon is making, because he’s already walking toward the double battles reception with his hands in his pockets. ‘C’mon, let’s get a move on. Wouldn’t wanna keep Scott waiting. I’ve got a feeling he might actually try to kidnap me.’

The Battle Factory is a lot more enjoyable than its slapstick honeycomb facade would imply. Raihan supposes that it’s his fault for judging a book by its cover.

‘Gengar! Finish it off with Psychic,’ he commands.

His rented Gengar has the gall to turn back and shoot him a wink before delivering the finishing blow to the opponent’s Weezing.

The referee waves his flag. ‘Weezing is out! Challenger Raihan wins!’

Scott is nearly beside himself with delight. ‘Oh, you _are_ as good as they say,’ he sighs.

At some point, the owner of the Battle Frontier had relocated himself from the stands to the battle area, and then he’d slowly inched closer and closer to Raihan’s spot on the battlefield until he’d practically been breathing down his neck with sheer anticipation.

Leon is standing further back, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and the shadow of a scowl on his face. His streak had ended prematurely due to a very lucky enemy Walrein landing Sheer Cold three times in a row. But he wears an approving smile when Raihan meets his gaze and shoots him a cheeky grin.

Unfortunately, Scott interrupts their little moment. ‘I’ve arranged a little something, just for you.’

The grin slides off Raihan’s face. He stalls politely. ‘Oh?’

‘You see, usually you need a twenty-win streak to challenge the Factory Head, but since your time here is limited, I’ve put you on the express lane, if you will.’

Raihan has already won six matches. From what he understands, the next is his last.

‘You really shouldn’t have,’ he says, scratching the back of his head. He _really_ doesn’t want to do this, so he actually means it.

Scott beams. ‘I look forward to watching your next match! Don’t let me down.’

Without further ado, Raihan is escorted back to the preparation room.

The assistant who’s been helping him looks mildly panicked. It’s the exact same face that the energy plant employees wear when someone’s not following standard operating procedure. ‘I— Uhh— Congratulations on the win!’

Raihan puts on a smile, if only to encourage the poor employee.

‘Your next opponent appears to be… uhh…’ The employee looks down at the clipboard in his hands. ‘Flexibly adaptable to the situation?’

That tells him absolutely nothing, but he supposes that Scott’s glee is all the warning he needs. ‘Cool, thank you.’

The employee looks relieved that he’s not asking any questions. ‘Are you going to swap out your Pokémon?’

Raihan looks down at the three Poké Balls in his hands. He’s already got a special attacker and decent coverage against Water, Dragon, Poison and Fighting types with his Gengar’s moveset. His Milotic can out-stall any tricky teams with her Leftovers and Recover while acting as a counter against Fire and Ground types. And he’s pretty sure that his Tyranitar could punch or flamethrower through everything else.

‘I’m good,’ he affirms. ‘I’ve just got one little request, if you don’t mind?’

The assistant pales to the same shade of white as his lab coat. ‘Yes?’

Raihan hands over his Rotom Phone. ‘Could you help me take some photos? Make sure to get my good angles.’

The Factory Head looks like a car mechanic dressed up as a scientist.

When he emerges onto the battlefield, he studies Raihan while thumbing the Poké Ball in his hand.

‘So you’re the trainer Scott’s got his eye on, eh?’

This whole thing is starting to feel suspiciously like a job interview. Raihan bites back a groan. ‘I guess so.’

The man in charge of the Battle Factory grins. ‘Well, I s’pose I’d better introduce myself then! The name’s Noland. I’ve had a look at your Battle Swap data. Perfect theory every time. I can see why Scott’s so fired up about you.’ Noland whistles lowly.

Raihan almost forgets to suppress his snort, but he manages to choke it into a strained laugh. ‘Theory isn’t everything,’ he points out. Leon’s awful luck had been more than enough of a reminder of that.

He doesn’t like the appraising raise of Noland’s eyebrow. ‘That’s right. Experience is what counts.’

Raihan shrugs. ‘Been a Gym Leader for more than half of my life, mate. Think I’ve got plenty of that.’

‘Then show me, and the big guy up there.’ Noland motions to the stands with his chin. Raihan doesn’t need to look to know that Scott’s vibrating in his seat in anticipation. ‘And maybe I can convince you to come on over to our side of the world.’

There’s a familiar adrenaline coursing through Raihan’s veins, especially now that they’re both done flexing their big boy brains, which means that it’s finally time to battle. He grins. ‘Yeah? Bring it on.’

It’s a close fight, but Raihan manages to pull through by the skin of his teeth.

They’re both down to one Pokémon each, effectively transforming the last and most crucial phase of the fight to a single battle.

Milotic narrowly dodges the enemy Typhlosion’s Thunderpunch, her scales dancing just out of its reach, and counters with a Surf of her own.

The Typhlosion slams against the opposite wall and doesn’t get back up.

His Milotic twitches, breathing heavily while electricity arcs through her body. She’d gotten paralyzed early on, but the status condition had only helped to toughen her scales to a nigh-impenetrable wall. Raihan has no idea how she’d survived _three_ consecutive Thunderpunches, but the beautiful sea snake had pulled through.

The referee waves his flag. ‘Typhlosion is unable to battle! Challenger Raihan wins!’

Noland lets out all of his pent-up tension in an explosive bark of a laugh. ‘You’re real smart, aren’t you?’

Raihan shrugs. He’s spent far-too-many hours cooped up in Hammerlocke’s dusty libraries, but that kind of trivia isn’t exactly public knowledge. Wouldn’t really fit his image, or so the sponsors say. ‘Nah, just lucky.’

The assistant assigned to him comes running in. ‘Sir! I took the photos like you wanted.’

Rotom obligingly cycles through an obscene amount of close-ups of his face. There are also a handful of photos featuring the battle, but luckily, all of them are incredible shots.

Raihan shoots the assistant a thumbs-up. For some reason, the assistant is starting to look a little starstruck. ‘These look great, thanks.’

Milotic is returned to her Poké Ball, and all of his rented Pokémon are whisked away by the assistant for some well-earned rest.

Scott practically flies down the stands. ‘That was fantastic! The early paralysis on Milotic was beautiful!’ Raihan doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’d been due to a horrible misplay on his part. ‘I must say I have the gift of knowing a good Trainer when I see one. I’m so glad I had the foresight to bring you here.’

Raihan wonders if his theoretical case file details even the extent of his rivalry-slash-friendship with Leon. ‘You’ve got a good pool of Pokémon here,’ he says amiably, ‘I’m sure it was all thanks to that.’

Noland puffs out his chest when he laughs. ‘You’re too kind,’ he chuckles, ‘but there’s only so much that variables can do. It all comes down to the trainer, in the end. But I’m sure you know that already.’

Raihan offers a polite smile. ‘Leon does like to keep me on my toes.’ Ever since the unfortunate incident involving Dragapult (the missile launcher Pokémon), Aegislash (the vaguely missile-shaped Pokémon), and an _appalling_ disregard for the spirit of double battles, Raihan likes to think that there’s little that can completely knock him off his feet now.

Scott turns to Leon, who had been leisurely making his way down from the stands. ‘Oh, that Walrein really was such a shame,’ Scott moans. ‘I’d been looking forward to seeing your battles too, Champ.’

Leon is full of light-hearted humour, but Raihan recognises the ghost of an unhappy frown in the downturn tucked away in the left corner of his lips. Leon has never had to learn the grace of losing, but he’s catching up quickly. ‘I _am_ here for work,’ he reminds the over-excited strong-trainer-enthusiast, ‘and watching Raihan’s battles gave me some ideas for my own project. If anything, it’s nice to see him having a good time.’

Raihan stills. He hadn’t realised it, but at some point, his worries and fears had washed away, swallowed up in the sparkling blue seas of Hoenn—

—but then Scott is chatting his ear off while he drags him out the door and the thought slips from his grasp again.

In the distance, Leon watches the chaos with a small, tired smile.

On their way to the next facility (their last for the day), Raihan feels Leon deliberately bump against his shoulder.

His voice is a low, amused murmur. ‘That paralysis was a bad read, wasn’t it?’

Raihan sighs and shoves him back. ‘Shut up. Don’t call me out like this.’

The mid-day sun cheerfully beats down on their backs as they head east in a straight line. Now that the lunch crowd has dissipated, there are more trainers milling the streets and crowding the entrances of the various facilities.

Scott navigates the crowd like he owns the place. Because, well, he does. ‘It’s always like this on the weekends,’ he says apologetically, but there’s no mistaking the twinge of pride in his voice when he adds, ‘we’ve been overwhelmed with all the new trainers lately. It’s always good to have them bring in their fresh ideas, though!’

The stone pavement beneath their feet gives way to the soft springiness of well-maintained grass. Pines stand tall behind a huge field of fiery flowers, at the centre of which a single structure looms. The building, hewn from stone, would not look out of place in the middle of a desert, but here it is surrounded by water, like a moat, that runs quietly like a creek until all-at-once it ends crashing down in a large, roaring waterfall.

There is a well-trodden path through the field of flowers to the building’s entrance. ‘This is the Battle Palace,’ Scott announces, looking straight at Raihan.

This is the facility where Pokémon battle without any instruction from their trainers. This is the facility built on the bonds between people and Pokémon. This is the facility that teaches the same values as Raihan’s Gym.

When Raihan is silent for a second too long, Leon slips in to smooth over the gap. ‘It’s very tranquil.’

Scott does not comment on Raihan’s sudden laconicism. ‘Oh yes, the Palace Maven doesn’t like theatrics. Even the media aren’t allowed in there. Here, it’s all about trusting your Pokémon to do their best for you.’

‘I’m afraid we don’t have enough Pokémon to—’

‘Oh, but between the two of you, you have three, yes?’ Scott grins. ‘And they’re your most trusted partners too, if I remember correctly.’

Leon’s hand slips into his pocket, where Charizard’s Poké Ball is. ‘I suppose…’

Scott claps his hands together. ‘I would love to see how they do without their Trainers! I’ve heard so much about your battling styles, but I’m curious to know more about your Pokémon too.’

‘They’re probably a little tired from the trip,’ Raihan says at last, ‘but if that’s alright with you…’

‘Of course!’ Scott looks a little too gleeful for someone who’s effectively putting Raihan through an extended test of his qualifications. ‘I’ll pull some strings again, so if you make it all the way to the end, the Maven will challenge you.’

Raihan hopes that Leon’s Charizard enjoys liberally using Solarbeam. ‘We’ll do our best.’

It turns out that Leon’s Charizard is not having any of this.

The overgrown lizard spends their first three matches sitting in a corner of the battlefield, refusing to budge. He even lets out a little whoop each time their opponents knock him off the edge and into the waters below the raised platform that serves as their battlefield.

Leon looks absolutely mortified. ‘He’s not usually like this,’ he protests weakly.

Raihan’s stomach hurts and his knees are scraped from all the times he’s collapsed to his knees, wheezing with laughter.

Thankfully, Scott looks amused. ‘Oh, I think I understand. I wouldn’t want to work on my vacation either.’

Flygon, on the other hand, seems eager to show off his full range of moves and his willingness to battle. Raihan’s Pokémon practically sweeps them through the challenge rounds. On the rare occasions that Torkoal gets switched in, all he has to do is breathe a little bit of fire and the opponent’s last Pokémon gets knocked out.

By the time Torkoal sneezes on the sixth trainer’s last Pokémon, Leon looks downright dejected.

Meanwhile, Raihan is having the time of his life. ‘Who’s a good boy?’ he coos, and Torkoal lets out a pleased huff of smoke.

Then an old man emerges from the other side of the room, flanked by an Azurill and a Dusclops, and Raihan realises why Scott has been strangely persistent in trying to coax Raihan over to the Battle Frontier.

The old man leans on a cane, looking terribly frail and—

‘My physical being is with Pokémon always! My heart beats as one with Pokémon always!’ the old man booms.

Raihan winces. Never mind. Maybe the old man isn’t in the market for a successor after all. Clearly, he’s made another terrible mistake in judging a book by its cover.

‘You young ones!’ the old man snaps, drawing himself up to his full height and pointing his cane at the space between the startled Galarian trainers, ‘Do you believe in your Pokémon? Can you believe them through and through? If your bonds of trust are frail, you will never beat my brethren! The bond you share with your Pokémon! Prove it to me here!’

Leon is usually ready to take any excuse to ham it up, so it’s surprising to hear only sullen silence from Raihan’s rival. It’s almost like he’s too upset to be theatrical, and that thought is almost _endearing_ , but there’s no way it could be true—

‘Let’s get a move on, whippersnappers!’ The old man’s cane makes a loud crack when it whips through the air.

Raihan hurriedly tosses out Flygon’s Poké Ball. ‘Yes _sir_ ,’ he mumbles.

By the time Leon’s Charizard manages to land a Solarbeam on the old man’s surprisingly agile Lapras, the sun is already hanging low in the twilight sky.

‘That was a good match,’ Scott comments.

Raihan is too tired to care about where he’s leading them this time. He’s had more than enough adrenaline for one day. ‘Thank you,’ he says, not really paying attention to the conversation, but Leon pipes up about something administrative and immediately the owner of the Battle Frontier and Galar’s ex-champion are engrossed in heated conversation.

Even after they’d defeated the Palace Maven, the old man had said nothing to imply that he was testing Raihan’s worth as a potential fellow colleague. All he had done was laugh (a very hearty “Gwahahah!”) and then, with startlingly clear and shrewd eyes, wished him and Leon good luck.

The old man had never said what the luck was _for_ , but Raihan’s brain is too fried to think into it.

A gust of cool air hits his face. The pair of glass doors hiss as they slide open. Scott turns back to Raihan with a smile.

‘You sure there’s nothing I can do to convince you? Anything at all?’

Raihan is almost too tired to dig up his polite corporate voice. ‘Nah, I’m good.’

Scott sighs, but there is something calculating in the way he rubs at his jaw. ‘Oh well. Anyway, here’s the Battle Point Exchange Service Corner.’ He motions at the large room. The floors are brilliantly blue, and there are trainers in orderly queues at the large counter taking up most of the far end of the room.

‘So there _are_ rewards,’ Leon muses.

‘Raihan’s got a decent amount of points, thanks to his amazing win streaks.’ Scott starts strolling toward the counter. ‘Just for that incredible show alone, why not pick out anything you’d like? If you don’t have enough points for the reward, I’ll make up the rest of it.’

Leon wanders off to the far end of the room, avidly staring at the wallpaper patterning the walls. He hasn’t won a single match today, for reasons entirely beyond his control. Even their win at the Battle Palace had technically been under Raihan’s name.

Raihan follows behind Scott, biting his lip as he thinks.

There are shelves full of all sorts of rewards behind the ladies manning the prize counter. Bottles of stat-enhancing supplements, neatly organised by colour, burst out of one shelf. There are all sorts of held items in another. It is all very practical, and full of things that would certainly help his Pokémon get stronger. But then on the other end, there are shelves full of Poké Dolls.

A certain doll catches Raihan’s eye.

He looks back at the unhappy slant in Leon’s shoulders and can’t help the smile that crawls across his face when he turns back to Scott. ‘Could I get that one?’ he asks, pointing at the Charizard doll.

Scott’s lips twitch into a smile. ‘I suppose I should’ve known that there’s no way to tear you from his side, huh?’

Raihan swallows. He doesn’t have the energy to contain the surprise that must be written across his face, clear as day. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

For some reason, he can almost imagine Scott rolling his eyes behind his dark sunglasses. ‘There’s no need to pull that on me. Steven used to say the same thing.’

Steven is the ex-champion of Hoenn and heir to Devon Corp, and that is all Raihan knows about him.

Scott leaves him to stew in this strange turn of events while he goes to retrieve the Charizard doll. Once he returns, he hands the soft plushie over in a conveniently opaque black bag and then immediately disappears.

‘You should come back with him, when he visits again in a couple days,’ is the vague invitation that Scott leaves him as a parting gift.

Leon drifts back to Raihan’s side, his hands clasped behind his back. ‘Where’s Scott?’

Raihan shrugs. ‘Said he was busy, or something,’ he lies. He doesn’t know why he’s lying. Part of him wants to pretend that the entire exchange he just had doesn’t exist.

Leon tilts his head when he stares down at the bag in Raihan’s hands. For some reason, it makes his rival look strangely soft. ‘So what did you get?’

Raihan shoves the bag into his rival’s chest and looks away. ‘It’s for you,’ he mumbles, hoping that Leon doesn’t ask about the heat flushing his cheeks.

Luckily, it would seem that Leon’s too busy being surprised. His fingers brush against Raihan’s when he takes the bag from his hands. When he reaches into it to pull out the very cute Charizard doll, he is silent for several moments.

‘I figured you were having a bad day.’ Raihan continues looking at the floor.

When Raihan finally looks up, Leon’s smile is like a sunny day, dazzling and bright and full of aching tender warmth.

‘Thank you,’ Leon says, and Raihan’s heart _thrums_ with something more electrifying than any hard-fought victory he’s won today.

**Author's Note:**

> i have this fully plotted out so just trust me when i say This Will Be Finished Soon
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/syorobao)


End file.
